Reckless
by YellowSunflower839
Summary: Henley is a reckless girl with poor impulse control and, after transferring to Dauntless from Amity, makes the mistake of annoying Eric on her first day. He makes her life a living hell as she struggles to survive and find a way to somehow belong, all the while the threat of war is steadily brewing deep within the walls of Dauntless.
1. Chapter 1

Hi!

This story has been brewing in my mind for a few months now so I thought I would finally write it. I'm aware that there a lot of Eric/OC stories out there that also include a character from Amity so I know this isn't exactly an original plot but I am going to try to make it my own, as well as differentiate it from the other ones out there so bear with me!

This story is set a year before Divergent and then progresses into the books which is why I am writing the characters slightly differently from their portrayal in canon because they haven't been affected by war and all the emotional/mental issues that come with that. Also, this story is going to be a mash up of book canon and movie canon - I'm not keeping strictly to what the books say and I'm filling in any knowledge gaps we have about the universe with my own headcanons.

Like the movies, I'm ageing up the characters so the Choosing Ceremony occurs when you're eighteen and, because this is set a year before Divergent, Eric is twenty three at the start of this story. They never actually said how old Tris is in the Divergent movie, it was very ambiguous but eighteen made the most sense to me.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Divergent series nor any of it's characters - this is intended as a piece of love and admiration for the work.

Rated T: violence and very slight gore (I guess?). Warning: the rating will go up later in the story as more mature themes develop.

Constructive criticism is welcome!

Enjoy!

* * *

 **Prologue**

 _ **Two Years Ago**_

Eric wanted to do nothing more than go home. He hated flowers. He hated people. He hated Amity. Most of all, he hated people from Amity. He followed behind Max as they strode past the Dome, the communal area of this stupid faction, located next to Johanna's office. He glared irritably at the bright clothing, the soft giggles and the gentle music swaying through breeze, scaring a group of small children.

They came to a stop at the barn door, a solid, warm brown structure that seemed both welcoming and practical; the very essence of Amity. Max gave the door two firm knocks that thudded noisily, the only harsh sound in the otherwise warm, still summer air.

"I will be with you in a few minutes," a melodic voice called from inside, "take a seat and make yourselves at home!"

Max grumbled irritably and Eric sighed, clenching his fists. Nevertheless, they moved away from the door, opting to stand while they waited and glancing curiously at the waiting area.

Slumped in one of the wooden benches, scowling furiously at the floor was a girl. She looked to be about sixteen or seventeen, pretty but with tangled hair and a nasty gash on her cheek. She was oblivious to their presence, intent on her mission of burning a hole through the floor with her eyes.

The door to the barn suddenly opened and Johanna glided out, looking determined, a tall, badly bruised boy trailing after her with hunched shoulders. Max stepped forward, opening his mouth to greet her but she ignored him, easily dismissing him as she swiftly made her way to the sullen teenager outside. Ordinarily, Max wouldn't allow someone to treat him in such a manner but his curiosity at the only instance of tension he had ever seen in Amity outweighed his anger.

"Henley," Johanna called, coming to a stop in front of the girl.

Henley's head snapped up, eyes bypassing Johanna completely and instead landing on the boy with a furious glower. The boy immediately flinched, backing up a few steps and the Dauntless leaders watched in open interest now.

"Henley," Johanna repeated, looking disappointed but firm. "Apologise to Ash."

The hostile expression on Henley's face melted into a sickly sweet smile as she stood up, smoothing out her soft yellow skirts.

Max sighed in disappointment, not interested in seeing some over-emotional Amity drama. Eric, however, continued to watch, noting a glimmer in the girl's eyes that didn't quite match her smile.

"I'm sorry, Ash," she said, cocking her head to the side like a small bird, "sorry I didn't break your other arm."

"Henley!" Johanna gasped, appalled. "Stop it at once! This isn't the Amity way and conflict of any sort will not be tolerated. You know this. Apologise to Ash, please."

"No." She tilted her chin defiantly, straightening her spine and daring anyone to challenge her. "I won't apologise because I'm not sorry." She paused. "I'd do it again."

Max and Eric watched as silent tears started to drip down Ash's face, his broken arm wrapped in a sling and cradled awkwardly into his chest. His face was marred by a swollen, oozing black eye that was splotched with purple and blue, obviously hindering his eyesight. Henley appeared to be eyeing it with satisfaction.

A broad shouldered man who looked remarkably similar to Henley rushed forward and sighed at the scene before him, holding a defeated hand to his forehead as though he could feel a headache coming on.

"Ah, Jasper, I'm glad you're here. Henley has been involved in another," Johanna paused, obviously searching for the right word, " _incident_."

Jasper, presumably Henley's father, didn't look surprised and nodded, giving his daughter a meaningful look that she stubbornly ignored.

Johanna addressed him brusquely, "I have to attend a meeting so, for now, you will have to take Henley to the Conflict Room and we can discuss further action about her recent troubling behaviour in our faction meeting."

Henley jolted in alarm, her eyes widening and filling with panic and she took a few steps back, holding her hands out in front of her defensively. "You can't make me take it!"

Jasper sighed like this was a recurring argument. "You know the rules, Henley."

"No," she yelled, looking scared now, "you can't make me take that stuff! I won't let you." She tried to make a break for it but her father obviously knew her too well and grabbed her arm before she could escape.

"Calm down, Henley, we've been over this."

"Don't you think that administrating the peace serum to me against my will is a form of violence?" Henley sounded desperate now, struggling against her father's grip.

Johanna and Jasper paused at her words, now suddenly unsure. She did have a point.

"We will discuss this later, for now sit with her in the Dome," Johanna eventually sighed, rubbing her temples. She turned to Max and Eric, gesturing for them to go into the barn but they were watching Henley struggle against her father's grip with cold amusement.

The Dauntless leaders took note of how the girl quickly realised she wasn't strong enough to break free of her father's hold on her through brute force alone as he tried to drag her away and instead decided to use her weight against him. She abruptly stopped her struggles and dropped to the ground, becoming dead weight. Her father toppled over with her. She used his surprise against him and easily broke free, sprinting off into a grove of trees and disappearing into the setting sun.

Johanna led the two Dauntless leaders back into her office, sighing and mumbling incoherently to herself. As Eric sat there and listened to Amity's list of trivial complaints with the Dauntless guards, he thought that maybe not _everyone_ in Amity were so pathetic after all.


	2. Chapter 2

Hello!

Disclaimer: I do not own the Divergent series nor any of it's characters - this is intended as a piece of love and admiration for the work.

Rated T: violence and swearing.

Constructive criticism is welcome.

Enjoy!

* * *

 **Chapter One**

A cool breeze brushed past her ankles, her dress fluttering around her bare knees as she shivered and hugged herself closer in an effort to ward off the chill. It was much colder on the roof than she had expected, and she regretted ignoring her mother's advice that morning to wear pants instead of a dress. There was a lot of advice from her mother that she ignored.

She stood in a small crowd, all huddled together on the top of a plain, inconspicuous building in Dauntless. The skin on her hands and legs stung from the small cuts and grazes that littered them thanks to her jump from the train but the pain was the furthest thing on her mind as she stared up in shock at the man standing in front of them.

"Who will be the first to jump?"

She didn't think that man was the right word to describe him. He was tall, standing a good few inches above everyone else, made of pure muscle and yet, despite his imposing size, he moved with the grace of a panther, every action precise, calculated and lethal. No, he was definitely not a man. He was Ares personified, a god-like being built entirely for war.

The crowd shifted anxiously at his words, some peering fearfully over the edge of the building at the dark abyss that awaited them, others looking at their peers in an attempt to assess the competition. She was the only one to straighten in excitement, immediately drawing the attention of the Dauntless leaders as they analysed their future members.

Henley Taylor was a small girl, in every sense of the word. At five foot, three inches she just barely reached the shoulders of the shortest male initiate. Her sunflower yellow dress was obnoxious and irritating, a flash of colour in the otherwise dark, grey concrete jungle. Her hair fell in wild, messy curls that brushed the top of her shoulders, unusual for a member of Amity to have such short hair and the only suggestion that maybe she didn't stumble into Dauntless by accident. Her blonde hair, lightly tanned skin and bright clothes made her a beam of cheery sunlight in the hard stone faction of the brave, shining the fact that she didn't belong like a beacon. And yet… "I will."

And yet she was the first to volunteer.

She watched the leader who had introduced himself as Eric narrow his eyes as she approached the ledge, visibly annoyed that the Dauntless born were letting some soft, weak hippie from Amity outdo them. Her legs shook slightly as she straightened up on the rim of the building and a small smirk tugged at his lips, clearly getting some cruel sense of satisfaction from her caution. She felt distantly vindicated that she wouldn't give him anymore than that. Henley wasn't staring at the bottomless depths below her in fear or worry; instead, her eyes were alight with exhilarated anticipation. He gritted his teeth.

Something about him nagged at the back of her mind - he was familiar somehow but she couldn't figure out from where. He glared darkly at her and she made her first mistake.

His contempt irritated Henley, stirring her competitive nature. She wanted to prove herself; she wanted to be more than some Amity softie and she hated that he looked down on her for it. He obviously didn't like that she was the first jumper and she gave him a small, sly smile, mocking his anger. His eyes darkened and true fear shot down her spine for the first time that day. Maybe she shouldn't have done that.

She took a deep breath, the muscles in her legs tensed and he called out just in time to stop her.

"Are you sure you want to go first, initiate?" he taunted, raising a pierced brow. "How do you know we aren't teaching you a lesson about stupidity and recklessness? What if you're jumping to your death?"

Henley paused but didn't know how to answer him so she just shrugged before launching herself off the edge, a breathless laugh escaping her lips at the momentary feeling of weightless freedom.

* * *

Dauntless was everything and nothing like she had expected. It was loud, dark and dangerous, a strange mix of wide, open spaces and long, winding labyrinths. She couldn't decide if she liked it or not.

After everyone had jumped, and she hadn't plummeted to her death as some had tried to lead her to believe, they were separated into Dauntless born and transfers. A man had introduced himself as Four and had led them away on a tour of the compound. He was stoic and didn't speak much but Henley thought there was a warmth to him that had been absent in Eric. She couldn't help the relief that flushed through her system at hearing that Four would be doing most of their training and not the cold war-machine disguised as a Dauntless leader. She didn't think she would survive his version of teaching.

They trailed after Four down a dimly lit, twisting hallway, the sound of hundreds of people talking over one another getting louder and louder the deeper they went. Henley desperately tried to memorise their path but it was a futile task, the series of mazes they had been led around were too big and complicated for her to remember.

"Do you have any idea where we are going or how to find our way back?" Henley whispered to a girl on her left, looking around with wide, fascinated eyes at the walls made from sharp, jagged rock, so different from the light, airy wooden homes of Amity.

The girl next to her snorted, an amused grin flashing across her face. "No, I'm assuming he is leading us to our probable deaths."

Henley laughed. "Or maybe the bear we're supposed to fight with our bare hands."

The girl snorted again, holding out a hand. "I'm Bella, Candor transfer." She had long, thick hair framing her face in small ringlets and dark brown skin that glowed under the old lighting of the compound.

Henley smiled widely in return, enthusiastically shaking Bella's hand. "Henley, Amity transfer."

Bella eyed the yellow dress. "No shit."

The noise echoing down the hallway was deafening now and Henley tried to stifle the butterflies rising in her stomach at what was to come. What if they were expected to perform some amazing physical feat in front of the entire faction? She didn't think she would win in a fight and she had no idea how to use a gun, let alone all the showy tricks and flips she had seen the Dauntless perform at school. Next to her, Bella tried to look unaffected, holding her head high and her eyes blazing confidently but Henley could see the slight indent on her cheek from where Bella was chewing the inside of it, obviously a nervous habit.

Four led them through an archway and the class breathed a sigh of relief when they realised it was a dining hall. Four nodded and left them to fend for themselves while he sat in a dark corner, fully living up to Henley's impression of him as a brooding, Byron type figure. She half expected him to pull out a book of angsty poetry.

The hall was less of a room and more of a cavern, large and echoing, with an uneven ceiling that looked like it had been carved straight out of a mountain. Henley usually felt small in comparison to everyone else but here, standing in what was easily the biggest room she had ever been in, she felt invisible. It was oddly liberating.

Bella and Henley shared a glance and sat with the rest of the transfer initiates, nervously picking the only free space on a long table that stretched almost the entire length of the hall. It was near the front, next to the leaders' table and the initiates reluctantly sat down, scared it was another test. They watched the leaders, especially Eric, who they were all rightfully wary of, out the corner of their eyes for a while and when they were ignored, relaxed, beginning to pile their plates high with food.

They were still apprehensive that Eric would suddenly decide to test them, already familiar with his propensity to torturing initiates, which was not at all aided by his icy demeanour. Even now, as they stared at him, he was glaring darkly at his food and refusing to speak to those he was seated with.

"Jeez, do you think that guy ever lightens up?" A boy from Erudite asked, flicking his dark bangs out of his eyes.

"He probably glares even in his sleep," Henley agreed from opposite him, scooping some peas onto her plate.

"Keep it down, you two, he can probably hear you," another Erudite hissed, settled comfortably next to the boy and swatting him on the arm in what seemed to be a well practiced move. She glanced at the two girls opposite her. "I'm Eliza and this moron is Felix."

Henley and Bella both smiled, offering up their own names as everyone around them started to chat cheerfully.

Henley went back to her meal, peering at it curiously. She grabbed a soft, round circle and sniffed it experimentally.

Across the table, Felix started laughing. "What are you doing? It's a hamburger."

"A hamburger?" Henley asked, eyeing it suspiciously. "So it's made of ham?"

Everyone around her paused, halting their conversations to stare at her incredulously. To her dismay, the leaders' table all looked over in interest at the sudden drop in noise and she tried to ignore their gazes, uncomfortable with all the attention that seemed to centre on her strange upbringing.

"Wait," Bella said, holding up her hands, "you've never seen a hamburger before?"

"No," Henley confirmed, "Amity doesn't eat meat – killing an animal is considered an act of violence." She started poking the burger.

"Holy shit, this is hilarious," Felix said, strangely delighted by Henley's fascination with the food.

Eliza rolled her eyes. "No, it's a travesty. Amity is depriving you of all the good stuff, be grateful you escaped."

Bella sighed impatiently and grabbed a bun, shoving the meat inside and forcing it back into Henley's hands again. "Just eat it."

To Henley's dismay, everyone was still watching her like she was some weird science experiment and she saw no other option but to do what they wanted. The meat smelled strange but not bad and she took a big bite.

The sound she made was obscene. "This is the best thing I have ever eaten," she moaned, mouth still full of burger. Eliza wrinkled her nose at her, ever the prim and proper Erudite with impeccable manners.

The boys they sat down with had gone strangely silent, most having blushed a bright red at the sound Henley had made. A few of the Dauntless sitting nearby and eavesdropping on the conversation were snickering at them as Henley gazed dreamily at her food. "I'm never eating anything else ever again," she told the table as she slowly came back to reality, catching the boys' odd looks. She glanced around in confusion. "What?"

Bella just smirked and patted her head, "don't worry about it."

Henley frowned at them for a moment before shrugging it off and going back to eating, more concerned with the almost religious experience she was having. If she had known the other factions had food like this, she would have tried to leave years ago.

Dinner at Dauntless was a loud and busy affair and the familiarity of it put her at ease for the first time all day. Meal times at Amity were also spent with the entire faction, although they had less fistfights break out and more music. The atmosphere of camaraderie and laughter was similar enough to home at least that Henley found herself joking freely with Bella, momentarily unconcerned with what was ahead.

"Aw, look at that," a tall boy with close-cropped hair sneered, leering over the table at them, "an Amity and Candor getting along, how cute, breaking social boundaries like that." He was also from Erudite and he gave Felix and Eliza a dirty look to which they responded with heavy scowls.

Henley's temper flared and she opened her mouth to reprimand the boy when a heavy arm landed across her shoulders, pulling her close. "Except this girl isn't just any flowery Amity," the arm said.

She jumped and looked up in surprise before her face broke out into an excited grin. "Zeke!"

"I knew you would choose the best faction, Alley Cat," he told her, looking like a proud mother hen.

"What is going on right now?" Eliza asked, looking from Zeke to Henley and back again.

They had caught the attention of the surrounding Dauntless members once more. Henley shifted awkwardly under all the attention.

"You two know each other?" Bella gaped, looking blindsided and slightly envious. "How?" Inter-faction friendships weren't against the rules, but they were heavily frowned upon and often discouraged. A friendship between a member of Amity and a member of Dauntless was completely unheard of.

Zeke laughed and ruffled Henley's hair, knotting it slightly and, if it were possible, making it messier. She scrunched her nose in annoyance and tried to wriggle out of his grasp but he was too strong and too big. "Its my favourite story about my favourite Amity," he told everyone, forcing a seat for himself in between Henley and an older Dauntless member, he paused, "well, I guess former Amity now," he amended.

He stole some fries from Henley's plate and gestured wildly with his hands, chewing loudly. "It was about a year ago, a bright, summer's day," he began, dramatically gazing into the distance.

Henley rolled her eyes and shoved him with her shoulder. "It wasn't that exciting, honestly."

Zeke snorted, "to you, maybe, but it was pretty damn exciting for us to watch an _Amity_ member try to commit _murder_ in broad daylight."

Zeke had drawn in an audience now, even the nasty boy from Erudite was interested enough to forget that he didn't like her.

"I didn't try to _murder_ him," Henley muttered, sulking into her dinner as her input went mostly ignored.

"So there I was, on border patrol at the fence," Zeke started, his voice taking on a low, conspiratorial tone. "We had been told to keep a close eye on the people working in the fields because there had been some concerning reports about disturbances at the border. I was standing guard at the trucks and – wait," to every initiates horror, he turned to Eric's table, pointing at a broad, scruffy looking man with a full beard. "You were there, Hunter, and," he became slightly awkward, gesturing more hesitantly, "and you, Eric."

"Yes?" the man in question asked, raising a cold eyebrow with a deadly look in his eyes. Zeke took the hint to leave him alone.

"So anyway, Hunter and the other leaders were there for an inspection or something, I don't know, I can't remember, and we were…" Zeke carried on but Henley was no longer listening, remembering that day with perfect clarity.

He was right, it had been summer's day, a hot one at that, and Henley and her siblings had been forced to help out in the outer fields, along with almost every available member of Amity. It had been an unusually hot summer and the long hours toiling under the burning sun had put a lot of their older members on bed rest after getting severe cases heat stroke. The rest of Amity had been forced to pick up the slack and Henley had been reassigned to help the new initiates in the potato fields on the outer perimeter, where they were close to the water pipes and irrigation system that wound around the whole city. Potato farming is backbreaking, extremely muddy work and Henley had been hot, sticky and very irritated, covered in several inches of dirt.

She had been next to the Dauntless guards, who had taken refuge from the glare of the sun in the shade of their big, military trucks, sipping cool bottles of water. Henley had been seething with jealousy and kept darting longing looks at them, not paying much attention to what she was supposed to be doing.

An initiate, Candor-born, was also fed up with the suffocating heat and finally snapped, boiling over and taking out what was probably several weeks worth of supressed rage and negative emotions out on Henley.

"Stop eyeing up the guards like a slutty school-girl with a crush and start paying attention to your work, bitch."

Everyone had frozen; time itself seemed to stop for Henley's siblings, who knew what was coming.

At first, Henley had been shocked, staring at him with wide disbelieving eyes. Never, in all her years, had she heard _anyone_ in Amity speak so nastily, let alone to her. His words, while stunning her, did not make her cry and instead they lit a small fuse inside her chest, stoking the flames of a furnace he did not want to see explode.

Henley had dropped her shovel as everyone stood in an unsure silence, the calm before the storm. The initiate had opened his mouth again to speak and the fire inside Henley's eyes had sparked, erupting into a blazing inferno.

She had snarled and the initiate had flinched back, rapidly putting space between them as Henley aggressively took her gloves off and threw them to the ground. According to Zeke, the Dauntless guards had watched in amused, mild interest as the whole drama unravelled before them.

Just as Henley had thrown her second glove to the ground, her younger brother had called out. "Henley, don't!" He was a year younger than her but seemed years ahead of his age. Their father had always called him an old soul. Henley had ignored him as the initiate had started running, attempting to put the large military trucks between him and his assailant. Quickly realising she would end up running in circles around the truck if she tried to chase him; Henley had started clambering up on the back of the truck, attempting to go over it.

"Say that again, you bastard!" She had yelled as her brother caught up to her. The two siblings shared the same green eyes, the same blonde curls and the same dusting of golden freckles across their nose and cheeks but where Henley was small, Brook was tall and broad. He had grabbed her by the waist and easily dragged her away as she reached the top of the truck, carrying her from trouble despite her struggles.

The initiate, both stupid and guilty had made the mistake of calling after her. "So-so –sorry!"

Brook had groaned loudly as Henley struggled even harder, fuelled by her rage. Some of the Dauntless guards had started to egg her on, cheering and whistling which only served to wind her up more.

"Suck my dick, fuck-face," She had snapped back at her adversary, somehow managing to twist free of her brother's grip. Before he could catch her, she had made a break for it, sprinting full speed at the initiate and landing a solid blow to his jaw, sending him sprawling in the mud. He had groaned and blood started dripping from his mouth as she settled on top of him, pulling her fist back to land another punch when one of the guards, Zeke, finally stepped in to do his job.

"Hey, little alley cat," he had laughed, easily stopping her arm and pulling her away with minimal effort on his part, "you did good."

She had glared up at him but stopped trying to resist, letting him set her down on the back of the truck to inspect her hand. With him standing over her, her view of the messy scene had been blocked but she could hear her brother pulling the initiate up, checking him over and then leading him away. The remainder of their small group had followed, leaving Henley alone with the Dauntless guards, who crowded around her, slapping her on the back, congratulating her and offering tips to improve her technique.

She had been staring up them in confusion when the guard who had helped her prodded her knuckles, causing her to hiss in pain and pull her hand away to her chest, defensively guarding it.

"Yup, your knuckles are definitely broken and you're lucky you didn't break your thumb as well," he had said, patting her on the arm comfortingly. "I'm Zeke. Don't worry, I can teach you how you how to properly throw a punch without hurting yourself."

"Still, it was one hell of a hit!" One guard had enthused, giving her a cheesy thumbs up.

"No it wasn't," another had grouched, "it was sloppy and uncontrolled."

"It was good for a little Amity slut with a school girl crush," Zeke had teased, grinning at her cheekily and instead of getting mad, she had laughed, a thrilled, adrenaline pumped laugh that had left her breathless. She had glanced up mid laugh and caught the eye of a Dauntless member standing off to the side, lounging against a truck in boredom, who she now recognised as Eric. He had given her a dismissive glance and sneered before turning away.

Henley was startled back into the present quite literally as Zeke gave her a particularly hard slap on the back, just about finishing up his story. "And that is how a forbidden friendship between rival factions began."

He was a good storyteller, knowing how to work the crowd and when to pause for dramatic effect. Henley rolled her eyes at him, not particularly pleased that he had aired the story to what was in reality only a small group of people but what felt like half of Dauntless.

"So what?" The hostile Erudite bit out, "an Amity punched someone? Big deal, it takes more than that to be Dauntless."

Zeke gave him a flat look. "Are you, an Erudite initiate, really telling me, a Dauntless born, fully fledged member, what it takes to be one of us?"

An embarrassed flush tinted his cheeks and he shifted awkwardly. "No, I'm just saying, it's not that impressive."

Eliza rolled her eyes at him, "shut up, Vincent, you're just jealous that this means she has a leg up on you."

Vincent glared but turned away, not bothering to dispute her claim.

"Good riddance," Felix muttered, giving Henley a reassuring smile. She felt a small bubble of affection for him.

"One thing that has always bothered me," Zeke said, facing Henley again, "is where you learned to swear like that in Amity?"

Henley laughed, "Old Man Joe!"

"Who?"

"He's a Dauntless born transfer – one of the oldest people in Amity – and he never quite kicked the habit of swearing. No one really pays him much attention though because he is so old. I used to hang out with him a lot."

Bella wrinkled her nose. "Why? What was so good about hanging out with an old man?"

Henley sighed. "He was the only other person who hated the peace serum just as much as I did."

This peeked Eliza's interest and she leaned forward eagerly. "What was that like? I heard that Amity administers the serum to the people who can't remain peaceful."

Felix piped up as well, his voice taking on a conspiring tone. "I heard that they lace the food with it and don't tell people, so most of Amity is taking it without even knowing about it."

"I heard that too," Eliza agreed. "Is it true that when you get in an altercation they put you in a room and force you to take it. Like some weird torture chamber?" She waggled her eyebrows jokingly, morbidly excited at the idea.

Henley stared at them with wide eyes, an uncomfortable lump in her throat that wouldn't budge even when she took a sip of her water. Zeke noticed her reaction and patted her shoulder comfortingly. "Hey, how about we get back to eating and leave the interrogation for another day?"

Felix and Eliza sighed but let the subject drop, getting into a small argument about who could have the last potato. Henley gave Zeke a grateful smile and went back to her food, telling herself it was all right now; she had escaped and found a new home. Hopefully.

* * *

Dinner was finished with an impassioned speech about what it meant to be Dauntless and what it took to make it there by Max, another leader, before all the new initiates were led away to get some sleep.

Henley stifled a yawn as they were guided through another dark corridor, thinking longingly of her soft bed at home and wondering, not for the first time, if she had made a horrible mistake.

They arrived at a large metal door at the end of the hallway and Four pushed it open, everyone cringing at the loud screeching noise it made as it scraped the floor. Rushing eagerly inside, the exhausted initiates found themselves severely disappointed.

The room was large but dark and uninviting. There were several small, hard beds taking up most of the space and not much else. Every bed had a small trunk at the end of it for storage but all Henley had with her were the clothes on her back. Four led them around a corner and showed them the shared, open bathroom, suppressing an amused smile at the horrified faces on most of his new students.

Henley wasn't bothered. Amity was all about sharing, love and the freedom to express oneself and communal living was an important part of life there. Judging by Vincent's expression of mortified consternation, it was not typical of Erudite and she smirked at having at least one advantage over him, even if it was just the ability to shower publically.

The initiates settled down into bed fairly quickly, now wearing the thick, surprisingly soft pyjamas provided for them in the trunks by their bed. The room was uncomfortably silent as they laid there in the dark, each person too caught up in their own thoughts to bother anyone else. Henley quietly mourned the lack of windows, wishing she could see the stars, or at the very least the moon but instead she could just barely make out the grey tiles of the ceiling.

Unease spread down her spine as she lay there and thought, trying to sleep but unable to switch off her brain. She didn't belong in Amity. She wanted to belong in Dauntless but she saw the way they all looked at her. They thought she was too soft, too weak, too _Amity_ to succeed. What if they were right?

* * *

Thank you for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

Hi everyone!

Thank you so so much for all your reviews, follows and favourites - it means a lot!

Rated T: Swearing and violence.

Constructive criticism is welcome!

Enjoy!

* * *

 **Chapter Two**

They woke up at six.

Four stood at the entrance to the dorm, banging something hard against the metal door. It was loud and obtrusive in the peaceful, quiet space and entirely unnecessary. Every initiate had slept fitfully and lightly, the unfamiliar beds and anxious thoughts about the future batting away the embrace of a good night's sleep. Four's footsteps as he marched down the hallway in front of their room had been enough to rouse them.

The room groaned as one and everyone dragged themselves out of bed, blinking blearily at the harsh fluorescent lights Four had switched on.

"I will see each and every one of you in the training room by six thirty, no later," Four informed them before he strode away, leaving them to rub their eyes blearily and gaze wistfully at their blankets.

Henley flinched as her feet hit the cold concrete of the floor, staggering up and into the bathroom. She threw her pyjamas off and jumped in the shower, not registering anything beyond her desire to be clean. In her drowsy state she had forgotten that not everyone was used to this style of communal living and there were a few catcalls and wolf whistles. Mostly, however, everyone was just too tired to care about modesty. They trailed after her, emboldened and inspired after Henley took the first step in baring herself.

The hot water was limited and Henley let out a small yelp as the temperature went from mild to below freezing. Around her, there were similar reactions from those still left in the shower. Henley hurriedly grabbed her towel and wrapped it around her shoulders, settling back on her bed and huddling into it against the cold. Bella was changing by the neighbouring bed and Henley turned to her, childishly pouting. "I'm cold and I'm tired – why do we have to do this again?"

Bella giggled at her expression but quickly sobered up after realising just why they were there. "So we don't end up factionless."

The morbid words turned Henley's blood to ice and she jumped up, swiftly changing and rushing after Bella down the dim hallway. According to the watch on Bella's wrist, they had only fifteen minutes to navigate their way through the endless number of halls to find the canteen, eat breakfast and somehow find their way to the training room. Henley could feel their imminent doom.

Through teamwork, some kind of miracle and sheer dumb luck they somehow made it to the canteen, bursting in like a small hurricane, sucking up any food they could reach into their whirlwind and flying away, leaving behind nothing but dust and a few frazzled onlookers.

With only thee minutes left they started to madly sprint through the confusing maze of corridors that made up the Dauntless compound and Bella watched in equal parts horror and admiration as Henley managed to shove an entire slice of toast in her mouth and swallow it in three seconds flat, without flinching. They skidded to a stop outside a room that they thought (desperately hoped) was the training room and exploded through the door. They scrambled into line with all the other initiates; irritated that everyone else had managed to arrive before them despite having left the dormitory later.

Henley made sure her back was straight and chin high as she stood to attention with the other initiates, observing out the corner of her eye the room that would no doubt be their home for the next few months. It was large, like everything in Dauntless seemed to be, and surprisingly light. It was sparse with only a large ring in the centre of the room, some targets at one end and punching bags on the other. Even though the room was old and seemed to ooze character, all the equipment, while worn and well used, was high-tech and spotless, standing in stark contrast to the crumbling, exposed brick that made up the back wall.

Four stood tall at the front, eyeing them sternly though not unkindly. His gaze swept across the line and came to rest on Henley. She thought she detected a flicker of disproval in his gaze and tried not to fidget, well aware that her appearance in the mornings wasn't exactly as presentable as it could be.

Four resisted the urge to sigh as he caught sight of the Amity initiate, wondering how she had made it so far when she appeared to be unable to dress herself properly. Admittedly, a lot of the class looked unkempt and bleary eyed, obviously prioritising breakfast over their uniforms, but no one had quite managed to master the 'walking disaster' look that Henley had pulled off. Her short hair was pulled into a messy off centre ponytail high on the back of her head, lopsided and missing most of the curls near the base of her skull. Her shirt was inside out and shoe laces untied, both of which she appeared not to have noticed yet. All in all, this year's batch of initiates were not off to a good start. Not good at all.

Four's mind raced as he thought of a way to diffuse the inevitable situation that was about to arise. He knew that Eric was lurking in the shadows, observing the potential new members from a vantage point where he couldn't be seen, wanting the candidates to be unaware that they were being assessed before he revealed himself. Four could already feel the contempt and disdain in Eric's gaze and he knew that there was no way all his wide-eyed students would leave the room unscathed. He could feel a headache forming.

Henley stared straight ahead, resisting the temptation to glance curiously around the room for clues about what lay in store for them. Would they start their training with guns? Or hand to hand combat? Maybe they would have to master their minds first and learn how to control their fear, brains over brawn and all that. Or maybe they would start with another type of weapon like… _Swords_! She had to physically restrain herself from vibrating in anticipation.

Quickly stifled gasps erupted around the room as Eric materialised out of the shadows, sending a ripple of fear through the initiates. They tried to stand straighter.

He stalked towards them, his eyes dark and glittering with cold fury despite the icy smile on his face. "Welcome to training," he said, voice smooth and quiet, deceptively soft. "Did you have a pleasant morning?"

No one was stupid enough to reply.

"Because," he continued, walking up the line, hands behind his back in a casual walk that just barely restrained the raw power in his body, "judging by your appearances, most of you thought that sleep was more important than presentation." A pause. "You were wrong." He came to a stop in front of Henley, his presence overwhelming as he towered over her, staring her down. "Your name, initiate?"

Henley knew that every second since she had walked through that door had been a test, one she was failing, and that this was the most important part. She did not flinch away from him, despite the insistence of her screaming instincts, and instead forced herself to remain expressionless and stare unblinkingly at the back wall. "Taylor. Henley Taylor."

He leaned closer, bending until he was eyelevel with her. "Well, Miss Taylor," he said quietly, almost gently, "care to explain why you look like you got dressed in the fucking dark?" His voice was still deadly calm.

It was an effort to remain steady, to keep her face blank. She knew that the moment she reacted, the moment she showed any weakness, he would rip her to pieces. She didn't think he would appreciate babbling excuses and, honestly, she didn't have any so she said exactly that. "I don't have an explanation, Sir."

To her right, Bella stiffened in fear for her.

Eric didn't move, that cold rage still lurking underneath the surface of his glacial blue eyes. "Really?"

Finally, Henley looked at him, her eyes locking onto his. "Really." She couldn't keep the glimmer of defiance from her gaze.

Eric's jaw tightened. He flashed his teeth. "Come with me."

He moved to the centre of the room, every step powerful and dangerous. Henley hesitated for a moment, allowing herself to gulp in fear while his back was turned before clambering after him. He stepped into the fighting ring, turning to face the class as Henley ducked in after him.

"If little Amity here," he announced, offering a mocking sneer in her direction, "can land a hit on me, I will ignore her transgressions. If she can't," his eyes glinted, "then she has to face the consequences."

Henley blinked. Someone in the crowd snickered and she shot a fierce glare in their direction, trying to mask the sudden thunderous beating of her heart and the tightening of her throat.

Four stepped forward, brow deeply furrowed, "Wait, Eric, I don't think that this is the right way to begin their training." At the dark, warning look Eric shot him, however, Four shut up, crossing his arms over his chest, face tight and disproving.

Eric quirked a pierced brow at her as they faced off, settling into a fighting stance, like a snake coiling before it strikes. Henley tried to imitate his pose but she knew it wasn't quite right when his lips turned up ever so slightly at the edges. Shit.

They stood there watching each other; Henley frantically trying to figure out her next move while Eric coldly assessed her.

The problem was that Henley had never been in a fight without the help of a haze of blind fury. Now, she felt nothing but small and weak and unsure. She had never actually tried to punch someone without her brother struggling to hold her back and now she had no idea what she was doing.

"Today, initiate," Eric drawled, satisfaction dripping from his confident smirk.

She nodded, that taunting lilt to his voice steeling her determination. The way he guarded his body suggested that she was never, not in a million years, going to land a hit on his torso or his face. His feet were spread apart, wide, and steady – there was no way she would be able to unbalance him. That really only left her with one option.

She moved quickly and suddenly, darting forward like a small bird and coming straight at him. A vicious smile danced on his lips and he shifted to intercept her. At the last minute, however, lightning fast, Henley swerved to the left, lifting a surprisingly powerful leg in an attempt to kick him. Surprise flashed in his eyes before he recovered smoothly, seeming to vanish before her very eyes and reappearing behind her, effortlessly grabbing a fistful of her hair.

She yelped, shocked and confused as he easily swung her around like a rag doll, holding her up by her curls to face the class. It stung like a motherfucker and her eyes started to involuntarily water from the position. She snarled, trying to punch him in the side in a futile effort to break free. He laughed cruelly, batting her hands away as though she was merely a fly, insignificant and mildly irritating.

"And this," Eric declared, shaking the fistful of hair he held at the nape of her neck, "is why presentation matters."

He threw her to ground with enough force that a loud thud echoed around the room, winding her. She lay there and gasped for breath, lungs and ribs burning.

Eric paced behind her, eyeing the crowd. "If her hair had been tied back properly I would not have been able to grab it and use it against her like that. Taking pride in your appearance is important, not only because it reflects you and your self-discipline but also because a sloppy appearance can be used against you in an attack."

Henley coughed; finally able to breathe once more, and got quickly to her feet, scared he would accuse her of being lazy.

"For example," Eric continued, not even glancing in her direction, "untied shoelaces can be your literal downfall."

Too late Henley looked down, only now noticing the state her shoes were in but unable to do anything as Eric stepped on her laces while she tried to walk away. She tripped and fell forward and he slammed a hard elbow straight into the middle of her back, driving her onto the floor again.

She wheezed, rolling over and away from him as he faced his students, face cold and emotionless once more.

"All of you will look acceptable tomorrow." And that was that. He strode from the room, leaving everyone gaping and scared, vowing that there would not be a hair out of place the next day.

Four helped Henley stand, giving her a small, comforting pat on the back that went unnoticed by everyone else. She got back in line, rubbing her spine. Four returned to his place at the front of the room, his stance authoritative and strong.

"Some of you may have noticed the board." He gestured to a board that had everyone's name listed alphabetically. "You are being ranked starting from today. While your training is separate from the Dauntless born, you are being ranked with them. There are eleven of them and fifteen of you. Only the top fifteen initiates will make the cut."

The room went impossibly still. Henley's stomach dropped to the floor at what that meant. Eleven of them would be factionless and, in all likelihood, it wouldn't be the Dauntless born. Eleven of the people she was standing with would lose their homes. She had to compete for one of four spots and she was the smallest one there.

Four took note of the horrified silence left in the wake of his speech. "More of you will make it than you think." He allowed them a moment to gather themselves. "We will start your training with hand to hand combat."

The rest of the morning was spent learning proper fighting stances and how to fall without injuring yourself. They spent hours and hours repeating the same positions over and over again, falling to the training mats again and again. It was exhausting and mind numbingly boring but not one of them complained, that board lurking in their vision all day.

After lunch was when the real torture began. Cardio training and strength training was the focus and Four forced them to run miles around the compound before coming back and doing countless press ups, sit-ups and every other strength building exercise he could think of. Their muscles burned, they could no longer feel their arms, one boy even threw up but still they persevered.

Henley had been pretty average that morning – she hadn't been the best but she hadn't been the worst. Where she pulled out at the top, however, were the exercises that afternoon. Amity was, at its core, a farming faction and farming was draining, tiring work that demanded all you had, and more, physically. Henley was in excellent physical condition compared to her peers, finding the run no trouble at all and even enjoyable – having been one of her favourite pastimes back home. Sure, her muscles could use a lot more definition and she had struggled just as much as everyone else towards the end of the day after the all the strength training they had to endure but, all in all, Amity had given her an edge that she desperately needed.

* * *

Everything went downhill after that.

Everyday, Eric would come in and observe them for an hour and everyday he found some new way to torment Henley. She was never neat enough, never strong enough, never quick enough and the worst thing was that he was right.

"Amity, spar with me. If you can land a hit you can sit out on tomorrow's fight. If not, well, it wont be pleasant." Her ass was handed to her.

"Enjoying this run, initiate? It's my duty as your superior to make sure you get the best education possible. If this is too _easy_ for you," his eyes flashed dangerously, "why don't you run for the rest of the afternoon? If I see you stop, I will come join you and," a cruel glint of his teeth as he bared them, "you won't like that." She had ran until she passed out, waking up on the cold, concrete ground in the dark a few hours later.

She had been good at first; her fitness levels had carried her through the first couple of weeks but eventually the rest of the class had caught up. Henley was small and light and it didn't matter how strong she got, everyone else was always going to be much stronger. The only thing she had going for her was that she was fast but even then, it didn't matter when she couldn't land a punch that actually had an impact.

She got up an hour earlier than everyone else and left three hours later, training until her hands literally bled, until her feet were covered in blisters and still she was at the bottom of that damn board. She constantly felt the warm, clammy hands of panic squeezing her throat until she couldn't breathe and she knew, she _knew_ that Eric loved every second of it.

"Amity, spar with Vincent." There was a vindictive spark in his eye.

The only person who seemed to delight in her suffering more than Eric was Vincent, the smarmy bastard. He obviously thought of himself as some kind of protégé to the blonde leader, his name near the top of the board giving him a belated sense of confidence. He glided around the place with a cocky grin, trying to unsuccessfully mimic Eric's mocking sneer. It was embarrassing.

Henley walked into the ring, her face still heavily bruised from her last fight. Nonetheless, her eyes still darkened with the determined steel that appeared in every fight, every task, every insult. They settled into fighting stances.

"Why are you still here, Taylor?" Vincent asked snidely, circling around her like a scavenger desperate for a bite of her remains.

"Why are you still acting like anyone cares, Vincent?" She bit back, eyeing his every movement.

His face twisted into an ugly mask of anger and he dove forward, trying to tackle her to the ground in one move. She was too fast and quickly dodged, circling behind him and aiming a well placed kick to the back of his knees, sending him crashing to the floor. She didn't waste a second, diving on top of him, pulling her fist back and driving it into his face, hearing it crunch underneath her knuckles. He grunted in pain and flew upwards, easily throwing Henley off, despite her best efforts – she was just too light, too weak compared to his burly mass.

Vincent didn't give her time to scramble to her feet and, in a role-reversal, pinned her to the mat with his hips, raining down blow after blow until she saw darkness.

* * *

Someone was snoring.

It was loud, insistent and very, very irritating. Henley huddled deeper into her blankets and then jolted awake when the movement sent searing pain all through her body.

She blinked in confusion, squinting against the harsh light of the hospital as her memories slowly came back to her. "Shit!" She exclaimed and attempted to climb out of the bed. It was difficult – both her eyes were swollen shut and ached horribly. Her jaw felt stiff and inflamed, along with the rest of her body. She tumbled into the chair next to her bed, landing in the lap of her visitor.

"Zeke?"

He startled awake, staring at her on confusion. "Henley?"

"What are you doing?"

"What are _you_ doing? Why are you in my lap?"

Henley blushed, jumping off him. "Stop repeating me!"

Zeke chuckled, gently guiding her back into bed. She grumbled but let him, grateful for the warm blankets - the hospital air was frigid and icy.

Zeke settled back into his seat, eyeing her with concern. "That little shit got you good, Alley Cat."

She sighed. "I know." Tears started to swim in her vision and she angrily swiped them away, hating herself for yet another Amity weakness. "I just – I just don't know what to do, Zeke. I'm going to be factionless. It doesn't matter how hard I try, how strong I get, I will always be weaker than everyone else."

Zeke's heart seemed to break for her and he gathered her into a bear hug, trying to smother the sadness out of her. "I heard."

She allowed herself a few more minutes to wallow in self-pity in the comfort of Zeke's arms before she pulled back, quickly wiping away the tears.

"Alley Cat," Zeke said softly, "I know you can do better than this – I have _seen_ you do better than this."

She looked at him miserably, "well, that was your first mistake."

Zeke levelled her with a deadpan look. "Think, Henley. What did you do differently all those times you fought in Amity?"

She stared at him for a beat. Then some more. Then she thought back to all the times she had actually won a fight, what she did differently. And it suddenly clicked, like a flower bursting from the ground, and Henley felt like an absolute fool. "I used my weight instead of my strength to bring people down!"

Zeke grinned broadly at her. "Exactly!" He passed her a piece of paper. "There is a small library to the left of the Pit. I suggest you check this book out." He stood up to leave, ruffling her hair fondly before wandering out the door, giving her an encouraging thumbs up as he left.

She looked down at the mess of scribbles Zeke claimed to be handwriting, smiling widely.

 _Alternate Fighting Styles for Those of a Smaller Size._

She was going to make it or die trying.

* * *

Thank you for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

Hey everyone!

Thank you so much for all your favourites and follows, and a special shout out to TheWritingManiac, IceFire15 and tigpooh67 for your reviews - they made my day!

Rated T: swearing, mentions of violence and guns.

Constructive criticism is welcome!

Enjoy!

* * *

 **Chapter Three**

The library was dark, dank and looked like it hadn't been touched in years. It couldn't even really be called a library, more of a closet with shelves, if she were being honest.

Henley crept forward; scared to make a noise, worried it would cause the books to crumble to dust. There wasn't even a librarian; just a small counter with an old machine perched on top that sounded like it was on its last legs, humming loudly and erratically. She scanned the shelves, going even deeper into the dark abyss, eventually reaching the back corner where a rotting, rickety desk stood. The book she needed was sitting innocently on the shelf above it, dirty and musty but in her desperate state, absolutely beautiful.

She grabbed the book, carefully placing it on the table and settling into the wooden chair. She delicately opened the cover, coughing at the plume of dust and mould that assaulted her nose. Her heart started thumping excitedly as she read a page, shifting happily in her seat as she turned to the first chapter.

The book outlined various martial arts and fighting techniques smaller people could employ to win, stressing the use of the whole body as a weapon and utilising an opponent's power against them. It was exactly what she needed and she almost wept with relief in that miserable, quiet corner of Dauntless.

Minutes could have passed, or hours, days even and she would not have noticed as she sat there and devoured that book, absorbing every detail. She had found an old notebook and blunt pencil at the back of a creaking drawer in the desk and started taking messy but detailed notes, filling page after page with new moves and techniques that she was desperate to try straight away.

Henley was so immersed in her new lifeline that she didn't notice she wasn't alone until a low voice spoke right into her ear. "What are you doing, initiate?"

She jumped several feet in the air, almost going into cardiac arrest at the sudden interruption. "Shit!" she exclaimed, whirling around to face what she hoped wasn't a ghost.

Even worse, it was Eric.

He was leaning against a bookshelf, eyes dark and shadowed in the poorly lit aisle, looking almost relaxed, although that made him infinitely more dangerous. His tattoos appeared to be living darkness in this light, contrasting harshly with the pale skin of his smooth throat. She couldn't read the expression on his face; it was too shrouded in darkness, lending to the threatening aura that always seemed to surround him. He stood directly behind her, uncomfortably close in an effort to intimidate her.

She stared blankly at him.

"Well?" Eric asked again, his voice taking on a dangerous edge that dared her to continue ignoring him.

"Reading." She said flatly, turning back to her book and dismissing him entirely.

He didn't take it well. A low snarl broke the tense silence that had cloaked them and he grabbed her chair, somehow whirling her around without touching her. If she weren't so irritated she would have been impressed.

He loomed over the chair, boxing her into it as he braced his hands on either side of her. "Want to try that again, Amity?"

She sighed, blowing a small, delicate puff of air into his face. "No, not really," she replied, shocking even herself at how brazen she was being. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, a voice was screaming at her to shut up, _for fuck's sake, do you want to die_? She ignored it.

He gritted his teeth, visibly restraining himself. "You don't belong here, Amity. You're not brave, you're just stupid and even worse, you're weak." He moved away, grabbing her book and quickly scanning the title, turning to her with that cold, mocking grin. "You think this will help you? Some book?" He shook his head in faux sympathy. "You're even dumber than I thought."

She flinched back and he smirked victoriously, sensing he had struck a nerve and leaning into her personal space again. "Don't worry," he whispered, "I won't forget your little attitude. I _will_ punish you for it, maybe an hour from now, maybe tomorrow, maybe in a week. Who knows? But it will happen and you will regret it."

She was too tired for this shit, too tired for everything. "I doubt it."

His face turned momentarily feral before he schooled into back into that icy, unfeeling mask. "Watch yourself, Amity. There are fates far worse than being factionless."

She glared at him, defiant and angry. "What are you even doing here?"

A sardonic smirk. "Reading."

She gritted her teeth, giving him a sarcastic smile. "Funny."

He moved back and she tried not to show how relieved she was, suddenly able to breathe freely again. He noticed her reaction and looked smug, moving into the aisle next to hers and manoeuvring through the tightly packed space with effortless grace. She could see him through a gap in the shelves, watching as he ran a finger over the spine of a heavy book.

Henley debated with herself internally, wondering whether she should get up and leave, thus escaping him, or whether she should stay just to spite him. In the end, her stubbornness won out and she remained, refusing to let him cow her into running away. He could be the first one to leave. She would stay there all night if she had to.

She went back to her book, spine stiff and hyper aware of him as he prowled the library, silent and predatory. She tried to focus on the words of the page but it was difficult to notice anything but his presence. She read the same line over and over again as he picked up books from various shelves and she resisted the almost burning urge to turn around and watch what he was doing.

Eventually, he sat at a desk in far better condition than Henley's in the next aisle. She could see the edge of his sharp jawline through a dusty shelf and had to stop herself from groaning in frustration. Why had he sat there? Why couldn't he just go away? She gritted her teeth and turned back to her book, stuck on the same page for what felt like an eternity.

Henley didn't know how long they sat there. It must have been hours. Her muscles were stiff, eyes blurry and stomach rumbling and yet she refused to leave, refused to back down. She had definitely missed dinner. She sighed, imagining all the burgers she was missing, all the _chocolate cake_ she wasn't eating and very seriously considered leaving when Eric shifted in his chair, reminding her that she could not, would not, submit to him and scurry away like a scared little mouse.

Henley had no doubt that Eric knew what she was doing, knew that they were in some kind of weird contest even if he did not acknowledge her. _Well_ , she thought, _jokes on him because I babysat toddlers and small children for years. I know how win a battle of wills._ No adult could ever quite match the stubbornness of a four year old in a temper tantrum.

Dusk descended on them and the already shadowed library grew even dimmer. Henley had to strain her eyes to read the page in front of her and she wished she had some kind of lamp or flashlight. Eric still sat in the aisle next to her, silent save for the occasional turn of the page. A thick, competitive tension fuelled by mutual animosity had been filling the room for hours and she couldn't help but think of all toddlers she had been forced to look after in Amity. They used to sit in stony silence and pout after arguments, moody and stubbornly clinging to whatever issue that had upset them. Even though Henley's silent struggle with Eric was almost comically similar, she couldn't imagine Eric as a kid, as anything other than the Achilles type warrior he exemplified.

She glanced over her notes, overwhelmed at the sheer amount of work she had ahead of her. There was no way she could learn an entirely new style of fighting from just one book, she had to grudgingly admit that Eric was right in that regard, but she could incorporate some of its techniques into the style she currently studied. She could adjust the moves she already knew to suit her size and weight, using this book as her guide.

Slowly, Henley started to drift off. She tried to fight it but the library was warm and dark and she was so, _so_ tired. She couldn't resist sleep's alluring pull any longer and she eventually passed out on that old, flimsy table, losing herself to the world of dreams.

When she woke up, it was in the early hours of the next morning. Her back was stiff, she had an agonising crick in her neck but a broad, victorious smile lit up her face. Eric was gone. She had outlasted him. She had won.

* * *

Henley had settled into a comfortable routine. Every morning she would drag herself out of bed and just barely make it to class on time. She would suffer through whatever torture Eric had cooked up for her that day and endure their morning exercises before gratefully stuffing her face at lunch. In the afternoon she would work on her fitness, lose miserably in a sparring match and then rush off to find Zeke once training ended. Zeke would pout and grumble but still follow her to the empty training room, helping her adjust the techniques she had learnt in the textbook and practice on him, giving her tips of his own. Sometimes Bella would join them, lounging on a mat as she chewed on some kind of candy and yelling out encouragement or insults, depending on how well Henley was doing.

Gradually, Henley could feel the iron fist of panic and fear that had held her hostage for so many weeks steadily loosening its grip the more she improved. She still had yet to try out her new fighting style in class but she wanted to perfect it before she did, wishing to avoid making a fool of herself and retain her element of surprise.

She started to walk around with far more cheer, despite the constant colourful array of purple and blue bruises that decorated her body. It seemed to drive Vincent insane trying to figure out why she was so upbeat when she was right at the bottom of the board and why she wasn't afraid of him even after he had beaten her unconscious.

Distantly, Henley knew this couldn't last, knew that there was a very real chance that she wouldn't make it, despite her best efforts, and that even if she did it was likely that not all her friends would but she wanted to cling on to this small bubble of happiness for as long as possible. Here, in Dauntless, she had the opportunity to be whoever she wanted, she could say what she thought, act however she pleased and no one would try to lock her in a room and drug her up for it. She was almost drunk on the freedom.

* * *

Poke.

"Hey, idiot, wake the fuck up."

Poke. Poke.

Henley frowned, scrunching her nose in her sleep and trying to swat the hand away.

"Henley, if you're late again Eric will, very literally, have your head. Get up."

Henley groaned, cracking one eye open to peer at Bella from her cocoon of blankets. "Fuck off."

"Sorry, babes, you did this to yourself," Bella said completely unapologetically.

One moment, Henley was warm in the soft embrace of her bed, the next she was hitting the cold, concrete floor with a loud smack that echoed around the room. "Eugh," she grunted on impact, the dull pain vibrating through her elbows.

"I told you," Bella smiled, "to get the fuck up. Move it, Taylor, or face Eric's wrath."

Henley staggered up off the floor.

Despite the rude, and frankly unnecessarily violent, wake up call, Henley was begrudgingly grateful for it. Bella got a concerning kick out of shoving people from their beds but, nevertheless, she did it because she cared.

"Finally, I can't believe today is actually here!" Eliza exclaimed at breakfast, delicately placing a square of buttered toast in her mouth.

"Wha's happening t'day?" Henley asked around a mouthful of pancake, the sticky, sweet syrup dripping from her chin.

Bella sighed deeply, taking a napkin and wiping Henley's chin with it while the girl in question squirted even more syrup onto her plate. "Today is when they introduce us to weapons training. We have officially been here for three months."

Henley tried to gasp in excitement but instead inhaled some pancake, choking loudly. Eliza rolled her eyes as Henley managed to dislodge the food from her throat, taking large, greedy gulps of water while Bella snickered into hand.

Eliza levelled Henley with an exasperated look. "How are you even still alive?"

* * *

Henley's hair whipped furiously around her head as the wind engulfed their class in a miniature tornado. She glared half-heartedly at the sky, trying to shove the errant curls from her eyes. It didn't matter how many hairbands she used, how many bobby pins, her hair always somehow got loose.

"How does your hair always end up a mess?" Bella whispered as they watched Four demonstrate how to properly load a gun.

"I don't know," Henley replied, "it's my curse, my burden."

Bella snorted, rolling her eyes.

Henley nudged her with a pointed elbow. "You're hair isn't much better, so I don't know what you're laughing about."

They were on a roof, somewhere deep in Dauntless territory. Four was going over the basics of proper gun etiquette while the class tried not to crowd him in their eagerness. They were like small puppies, wriggling with excitement and enthusiasm at the chance to use a _real_ gun. Eric lounged on the wall behind Four, uninterested and using a sharp knife to cut up a blood red apple.

Four finished his instructions, leading them over to the row of targets at the end of the roof, showing them a white line taped to the floor that they were expressly forbidden to cross. He handed out the weapons, warily eyeing a particularly eager and notoriously clumsy initiate.

Henley was shocked at how heavy the gun was, the cool metal biting into her gloveless hands. Four had made it look so easy as he had dismantled and reassembled his own weapon, smoothly handling a machine that could kill everyone there in a mere heartbeat.

The class lined up their shots, double checking that their ear protection was in place and switching off the safety. Four didn't give them a count down or a time limit, instead letting them adjust on their own terms, getting a feel for the gun before they fired it. The only advice he had given them was to be careful of the recoil.

Henley eyed her target down the barrel of her gun, the sensation of holding it uncomfortable but not unpleasant. She didn't want to be the first one to make a shot, reluctant to embarrass herself but she was getting impatient. She knew the others were waiting for someone else to take the first step, and inevitably fail, so that their own first attempt wouldn't look half as bad. Henley knew that by taking the first shot she was playing right into their hands but she couldn't help herself; it was getting boring just standing there.

She aimed her gun at the target, standing tall with her feet shoulder length apart. Using her left hand to steady it, she adjusted the position of her weapon, lifting it slightly higher so the gun was level with the centre of the target. Henley took a deep breath and held it, steadying herself. She fired.

The recoil jolted her, forcing her to stumble back as the bullet went wide, hitting the brick wall with a sharp crack. Despite the failure, Henley let out a loud shout, grinning widely from ear to ear and breathless as adrenaline pumped through her veins.

Predictably, Vincent tried to mock her. "Nice shot," he sneered, "maybe you'll be able to hit the target in a few years time."

"Big words for someone who hasn't fired a single bullet yet," she threw back, lining up her next shot.

The tip of Vincent's ears turned a dark red and he glared murderously but turned back to his own gun, scowling at his target.

Bella gave her a fist bump before firing off her own shot, letting out a big cheer when it hit the corner of the board. Not quite the target but far closer than Henley's first attempt had been. They grinned at each other and Henley gave her quick high five, slightly envious, but still pleased for her brown-eyed friend.

Henley's next five shots all missed, hitting the decaying brick wall instead of the board, leaving behind small smoking dents. It was no worse than anyone else but it still bugged her, like an itch she couldn't scratch. This didn't require physical strength, just good eyesight, good instincts and a bit of talent – why shouldn't she be able to do it? Gritting her teeth, she aimed her gun at the centre ring again, spreading her feet slightly further apart than she had before, trying to better prepare for the kickback.

She inhaled deeply once more, lungs rising and muscles relaxing. Time seemed to slow as she stared at the target and the wind swirled around her before dying down, leaving everything still, calm. She pulled the trigger. The force of the gun resonated through her body but she was ready for it this time, holding steady, watching as the bullet blurred forward and hit the target dead centre.

A hush fell over the rooftop. Henley stared in shock, not quite believing her eyes.

"Beginner's luck," one of Vincent's friends called out, giving her a nasty look. She ignored him, heart racing in anticipation as she repeated her position.

She fired again. It hit the centre. She fired once more. It landed dead on target. She fired over and over and almost every time the bullet hit the target exactly where she wanted it to.

Her cheeks were flushed, eyes bright and shining, and she felt like she could do anything; be anyone. She felt strong and invincible, as though no one could touch her, couldn't make her do anything against her will; couldn't lock her away. Like the ocean, bottomless, powerful, unmovable; a force not to be trifled with. It could have been the adrenaline speaking, or the rush of finally being good at something but Henley, for the first time since arriving in Dauntless, felt like she had accomplished something, like maybe she could belong here.

The afternoon passed quickly after that and by the end of the class Henley could hit the middle ring with deadly accuracy every time. Vincent had been slowly growing more and more infuriated with every compliment she received, every pat on the back. He wasn't bad with a gun but it was clear that he thought he would be far more proficient than he actually turned out to be. His jealousy became a living thing, a demon whispering in his ear, poisoning his thoughts and making the air around him toxic.

Four called it a day as the sun started to descend past the horizon, bathing them all in an orange glow. Henley's breath caught in her throat as she stopped and stared at the sky, the way the pinks, purples and blues all bled into one another, like ink dropped in water, swirling and changing, every mix of colour beautiful. The sight made her heart ache. It was the first sunset she had seen in months and it sent a small pang through her chest.

"Henley," a voice to her left called and she was jostled as someone heavy shook her, "sometimes I forget how Amity you are. Only one of you banjo strumming softies would look at a sunset like that."

She identified the voice as Felix but could not bring herself to tear her eyes away from the sky. "You don't think it's beautiful?" she asked softly, still distracted.

"Of course, but I'm not so taken by it that I'm going to become oblivious to the world around me and hold people up."

"Huh?" She finally dragged her gaze away from the picturesque scene above her, looking around in confusion. Sure enough, she had stopped right by the exit, blocking the doorway.

Felix and Bella stood behind her wearing identical amused smiles. Thankfully, they appeared to be the only people she was inconveniencing, the rest of their class having eagerly scurried off as soon as they could, probably to use the limited hot water available while it was still there.

"Oh," Henley laughed, moving to the side. "Sorry, I just got distracted."

"We know," Bella said, marching down the stairs. Felix swiftly followed and Henley took one last, wistful glance at the setting sun, intending to go after them.

A small flash of movement caught her eye, however, and she turned back, locking gazes with Eric who was watching her intently. His stare was cold and assessing, like he was trying to take her apart to see her insides and find out what made her tick. He caught her looking and glared, lips twisting angrily before he bared his teeth at her in a hostile sneer.

Henley scowled at him in return, raising a challenging brow before she smirked and strolled off to join her friends. She wasn't scared of him. She knew she should be; knew he should terrify her but somehow she just couldn't find it within herself to care. Her mother had always said she was reckless, had always predicted it would be her downfall.

* * *

The initiates had discovered pretty early on that dinner was far more casual than the semi-formal meal of their first night. Normally, the leaders sat wherever they pleased, free to mingle with their friends and family, although they were mostly found breaking up the small scuffles that sometimes broke out.

Henley's small group of friends sat and watched in amusement as Shiro, one of the Dauntless born initiates, got into it with his older brother, wrestling him to the ground and smashing anything delicate in the immediate area. Maria Sanchez, a leader of thirty who had a reputation for being a hard-ass easily broke them up, rolling her eyes in exasperation. She threw the two boys apart and turned to Henley's table, striding over and coming to a stop in front of her, hands on her hips and face stern.

"Hey, kid," she jerked her chin at Henley. "I saw what you did with that gun today. If you make it through initiation," she gave Henley a quick, unimpressed once-over, "then hit me up – I run the sniper division." She didn't give Henley a chance to reply, turning away and joining her friends to eat before Henley could so much as blink.

She turned to her friends in awe. "Holy shit."

Things were finally starting to look up.

* * *

Thank you for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

Hi guys!

Thank you so much for all your feedback! It means so much and motivates me like crazy - I have gotten some weird looks for loudly squealing in public after I read your reviews.

Rated T: violence and swearing.

As always, constructive criticism is welcome!

Enjoy!

* * *

 **Chapter Four**

Henley was going to die.

Stupid. She had been so stupid. Eric had told her would she pay for being so snarky with him and like a fool, she had ignored him.

She had arrived early to training that morning for the first time ever, strolling in with five minutes to spare, crunching on a fresh apple, the sweet, sugary juices dripping down her hand in little rivulets. Thinking she had been alone, Henley had tried to lick them off, chasing the delicious streams down her arm with a small, pink tongue. She had twisted her hand, trying to catch a drop before it reached her elbow when she had caught sight of Four and Eric, watching her, important looking papers clutched in their hands. She had clearly interrupted them mid-conversation and she had frozen, standing there like an idiot with her tongue still stuck to her arm.

Four had been giving her a weird look, eyes glimmering with puzzled amusement. Eric, on the other hand, had been staring at her mouth, oddly transfixed before he had blanched and given her a disgusted look, abruptly turning away and dismissing her presence entirely.

Henley had quickly come back to herself, hastily lowering her arm and giving Four a sheepish wave. She had plopped down on a mat, starting her usual stretching routine in preparation for the no doubt exhausting day ahead of her.

The door had slammed open and Felix had flown inside, bounding over to Henley and beginning his own stretches. "Hey, why are you up so early?" He had yawned. "Bella normally has to drag you out of bed. Have I missed something?" He had asked, dropping into a lunge.

Henley had sighed irritably. "Eliza tricked me. She made me think it was 6:15 when it was actually 5:45 and I only noticed at breakfast." Henley had looked distinctly unhappy about it.

Felix had snorted, "you're such a mess, Henley, how did you ever make it this far?" He had said it jokingly, giving her a teasing grin.

Henley had stuck her tongue out at him, opening her mouth to reply, when she had been cut off.

"My thoughts exactly," Eric had said smoothly, a glint in his eye that Henley _really_ had not liked. "How do we know she isn't cheating?" He had smiled viciously at her.

Vincent, the bloodthirsty hyena that he was, had sensed an opportunity. "Yeah, she was right at the bottom of the board last week and now, miraculously, she moved up a few places in the rankings, even though she has yet to win a single fight." He had wandered into class at the perfect moment to aid in Henley's torment.

Eric, who was usually openly contemptuous of Vincent, had given him a cold mockery of a smile. He had looked at Henley in false concern. "Well, that _is_ rather suspicious."

She had ground her teeth together, refusing to say anything that might provoke them more. They had damn well _known_ that she had moved up a few spaces on the board because of her talent with a gun.

"I think," Eric had continued, casually moving closer and invading her personal space until he was standing right above her, blocking out the light, "that Amity should prove herself. Prove she didn't cheat. Prove she deserves to be here."

She had glared furiously up at him; jaw clenching almost painfully. Still, she hadn't been stupid enough to speak.

"If little Amity here," Eric had drawled, "can complete a challenge of my choosing that requires the appropriate bravery and strength to demonstrate that she is Dauntless enough to be here, I will bump her up three places in the rankings. If she loses, however, she goes back to being last."

She should have said no.

Even though she wasn't in last place anymore, she was still light years away from being in a position that would save her from being factionless at the end of stage one. Her new fighting style was just about ready to be used but she only had one month before the first round of initiates were slashed. One month before the end of stage one. It was cutting it close. Even if she won every fight she participated in there was still a good chance they would kick her out anyway. Those extra places Eric offered her could be the literal difference between life and death for her, and he knew it.

She had bit her lip, chewing it indecisively as Four had subtly shook his head from behind Eric. It didn't make a difference – this was a risk worth taking.

Henley had nodded her agreement, scowling spitefully at Eric and he had grinned smugly, leading her, and the rest of their nosy class, out of the training room and to the Pit.

It was a well-known fact that the Pit was dangerous. It was the centre of Dauntless, the beating heart of the faction, and was carved haphazardly into the surface of the city. The rest of the Dauntless compound spiralled out from it in a confusing web of rooms and traps, designed to confuse any unwanted guests.

Eric had led her right to the very back of the cavern, pointing up at the towering, frighteningly steep rock face that made up one of the Pit's many walls. He had smirked. "Climb it."

And there Henley was now, half way up and half dead, clinging onto a jagged piece of stone that cut into her hand. Her knees wobbled, her arms shook and her lungs burned. She wanted to cry but didn't have the energy.

The wall was a minefield of danger - slippery, sharp and completely vertical. There were almost no footholds or crevices she could use to claw her way to safety. It was purposefully designed to be a death trap, making it very difficult for any intruders to utilise and making it fucking impossible for Henley to scale as well.

She imagined she felt the same way Sisyphus did, in all those all Greek myths the Erudite liked so much. Bone grinding exhaustion, sizzling rage at the world and despair at a climb that seemed small but felt like a fucking mountain. She really didn't want to join Sisyphus in the Underworld; the Dauntless compound was close enough, thanks.

Henley stretched, reaching for a small dip in the wall to pull herself up with, thanking every deity she could think of for her tiny hands that easily slid into all the nooks and crannies in the rock, something someone with bigger hands would have struggled with. Muscles aching with fatigue, she hauled herself further up, just over half way there.

The first couple of metres had been fine, tiring and painful but manageable. Now, however, it was becoming increasingly difficult to go on and she paused, glancing down at the fatal drop below her.

She had never been truly terrified before. Everything she had done in Dauntless up until that moment, while alarming, was never actually scary – she had always known she would survive. At that moment though, clinging to the sinister, looming rock face that thirsted for her blood, death was a very real possibility. One slip up, one mistake, one moment of bad luck and she would be sailing the river Acheron to join her good friend Sisyphus. _Fuck_ , she thought to herself, _what the hell is up with all these Greek mythology references?_

She wondered if anyone would miss her if she were to die. Would her family even know? Would they feel it? Would _Henley_ feel it? Or would it be just like going to sleep? She looked down again. The sun was shining through the glass ceiling, bright, happy, untouched by the murky, malign depths of Dauntless. It caught the strands of a blonde head, illuminating Eric in a radiant halo and Henley had to stifle a snort at the irony – Eric was the least angelic person she had ever met.

Strangely though, seeing him standing there, arms crossed, relaxed and smug, Henley's fear dissipated, replaced instead with fiery indignation. And spite. She was going to climb to the goddamned top of this goddamned wall without goddamned dying and Eric was going to eat his goddamned words. Fuck him, fuck Dauntless and fuck everyone.

She wasn't weak, she wasn't dumb and she didn't belong in Amity. She belonged right where she fucking was and she was going to prove it.

Henley climbed and climbed; body screaming, chest heaving and mind crystal clear. She was no longer afraid. If she died, she died. There was nothing she could do now but keep on going. She reached the top, her hair kissing the top of the glass ceiling, the midday sun blinding her as she madly groped for a handhold.

"Alley Cat!"

Henley jumped, almost loosing her grip on the wall as she looked down. Zeke stood below her, grinning widely up at her from a small balcony that overlooked the Pit. He waved his arms enthusiastically, gesturing for her to climb down onto his ledge.

Henley smiled brightly at him, little dimples forming on her cheeks, but it faded as Eric appeared behind Zeke, face blank and emotionless. She hadn't even noticed that he wasn't watching her from the ground anymore. Henley scrabbled towards them, dangling herself over the edge before dropping lightly in front of her friend.

Gathering her into an overzealous hug, Zeke cheered, swinging her around in delight. Henley laughed with him, giddy with relief. He put her down, kissed her on the cheek and then strolled off, whistling loudly. _He's a bit of an odd one_ , Henley thought to herself, smiling fondly at his disappearing back.

Then she remembered Eric. Henley turned to him; smile gone, exhausted, slick with sweat but eyes shining triumphantly, defiantly.

Eric scoffed at her, "you climbed one wall, Princess, not a mountain."

Henley scowled, "I proved myself. Admit it."

His voice held a warning tone, "you only proved you're a suitable initiate. Don't get cocky."

She sighed, rolling her eyes at him. "Whatever." She moved to leave but he stopped her, stepping out in front of her and blocking her path. Colliding with his chest, Henley stumbled back, impressed at how solid he was despite herself. She glared up at him.

He looked down at her, cold sneer in place. "You paused halfway. Was the big, bad wall too scary for you?"

She huffed, rolling her eyes again. "I was thinking about Sisyphus, actually," she blurted out, not quite sure why she told him that.

His eyes flashed with surprise and, for a moment, a heartbeat, he didn't look threatening. "And what? Dauntless is the Underworld?"

She smiled at him then, genuinely; her cheeks dimpling softly as she momentarily forgot that she hated him. "Absolutely."

He was quiet for a moment. "Who does that make me?"

Her smile turned sharp. "Hades."

His eyes glittered in clear amusement, his mask slipping slightly before it slid back in place. He studied her for another beat, face unreadable, before he turned around and strode away, his walk powerful and unrelenting.

"Well, that was weird," she muttered to the empty silence.

* * *

When Henley rushed into training the next morning, her name was three spaces ahead on the board, putting her in the lower middle section of the rankings. Her heart sped up at the sight, fists unconsciously clenching in anticipation. She was almost there.

Four announced the first fight of the day and everyone gathered around to watch Felix and a boy named Lucas punch it out. Lucas was one of Vincent's friends and had the personality to prove it – violent, petty and dumb. They crawled into the ring and faced off.

"Begin," called Four, watching them closely.

Four hadn't even finished speaking when Felix lunged forward, knocking Lucas to the floor with a devastating blow to the jaw. Lucas groaned and tried to scramble away but he was too dazed from the hit he had just taken and Felix had no trouble catching up with him, pinning him to the floor with his hips. He suddenly stopped, fists raised, looking to Four for further instruction. Four nodded and called it, declaring Felix the victor.

Bella, Henley and Eliza all cheered from the sidelines, grins wide and happy for their friend. When they weren't in training, it was hard to imagine the dopey, soft-spoken boy being able to hurt a fly, let alone another person. But when he stepped into the ring, there was a hard glint in his eyes. His posture would change rapidly, his shoulders going from slouched and relaxed to wide and strong, his walk becoming more of a prowl. The only initiate in their class ahead of Felix in the rankings was Vincent, and that was only because of his propensity for beating his opponents unconscious. He lacked Felix's mercy.

The next hour passed in a blur of fights. Bella was called up to face a large, bumbling Erudite initiate, easily defeating him with a series of sharp jabs and punches to the face and abdomen. Henley watched with growing nerves, both dreading and excited for when her name would be called.

There was only a half hour left until lunch when Eric strode in, hair meticulously gelled in place and leather jacket spotless. He ignored everyone as he marched towards Four, stopping next to him and speaking lowly in his ear. The room strained to hear what he was saying but his voice was too quiet. Four nodded and, when he didn't look too concerned by what he had just heard, the room breathed a sigh of relief. They were always on edge whenever Eric appeared.

Henley was the only one who remained uneasy, tensed in preparation for what was to come. She _knew_ he was going to pick her next.

Sure enough, after an embarrassingly short fight between two lanky Candor initiates, Eric gave a broad smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Amity, you're up."

Her hands shook as she climbed into the ring and she didn't know if it was from fear or anticipation. This fight was either going to make her or break her. It was one thing to practice sparring on her friends and another thing entirely to face an opponent who would do everything in their power to take her down. Zeke had been a useful test dummy but he was only one person – how did she know her technique would work on someone else? _I should have tested this on more people_ , Henley thought regretfully as she straightened up. She just hadn't had the time – there was only one month until the first round of initiates would be axed. It was now or never.

Eric pretended to scan the room for her opponent but everyone knew it was an act. He enjoyed toying with her, dragging out her suffering for as long as possible. They all knew he was going to select Vincent to be her challenger; ever since he had beaten Henley unconscious, Eric took vicious pleasure in making her fight him whenever he could.

"Vincent, get in the ring."

Bella rolled her eyes from behind Eric, locking gazes with Henley and pulling a face at his back. Henley's answering smile was wobbly but she appreciated Bella's attempt to cheer her up all the same.

Vincent swaggered up into the ring, grinning as though he were about to win a prize. "Do you think I will knock you out today again today? Or maybe just give you another black eye?"

Henley smiled sweetly at him. "Go fuck yourself."

He laughed at her, the sound breathy and irritating. She saw Eric grit his teeth out the corner of her eye and felt smug satisfaction at the thought that Vincent's hero couldn't stand him either.

"Begin," called Four, eyeing the scene in front of him disapprovingly, his mouth tilted downwards. He thought she was going to lose and he disliked unnecessary violence.

Vincent immediately sprang forward in a lunge designed to wrestle her to the floor. Henley was quick though, and small, which made it easy to duck under his arms and land a punch directly to his solar plexus. Unlike all the other times Henley had managed to land a hit, it actually had an impact. Vincent instinctively curled in on himself, looking to protect his vital organs as he stumbled back in order to breathe, winded and slightly dazed. Henley paused for a moment, surprised that it had been that easy. She had tilted her hips further back than Four had taught them to when punching, as the book had suggested, and it had actually fucking worked.

The moment of surprise cost her and Vincent used it to recover, raising his fists to protect his centre as he lifted his leg to kick her. Henley easily dodged, circling around him and trying to knock his knees out. Vincent expected her to make that move, however, and blocked her kick with his shin while he aimed a right hook at her face.

Henley was forced to duck and move away, searching for another opening. They circled each other, both trying to find a weakness they could exploit. There weren't any – they were too well trained and too used to fighting one another – they could predict each other's movements. Henley needed to break the pattern. She needed to do something unexpected.

She darted forward abruptly, like a bird of prey giving chase, aiming a jab at Vincent's face. The move didn't make sense – it left her vulnerable and briefly unprotected but she was too quick and Vincent was too surprised to do much about it. It was brazen and rushed and, if she weren't so fast, ill advised.

She heard Eliza sigh irritably from behind her and had to force herself to ignore the distraction. Henley was often too brash and didn't think things through, didn't plan ahead. Eliza constantly nagged her to show more restraint, doling out unwanted advice and opinions when she wasn't asked but Eliza was too cautious and it cost her just as much as Henley's impulsiveness did.

Henley's daring attack proved to be the correct course of action when Vincent raised a hand to block her blow to his face, leaving his throat open. Henley was more dexterous and more agile than his broad, lumbering frame could ever hope to be and she suddenly changed the direction of her fist, adjusting its course so it landed directly on his neck. There was a quiet thump as it connected with the delicate skin there and Vincent let out a strangled, choking sound. Stumbling back, he coughed and gagged, heaving in deep, ragged breaths as his body tried to cope with the sudden lack of oxygen and blinding pain.

Henley refused to let him recover. In a move that took a week of frustrating, never ending practice, Henley jumped up, wrapping her legs around his waist and twisted, bringing him to the floor and pinning him in place. He was helpless against her, unable to move and free himself. He struggled weakly.

Eventually, still wheezing from her blow to his throat, Vincent held up a shaky hand, "I yield."

And just like that, the world came crashing back around her again; the loud excited chatter of her classmates, the howling wind outside, the gross stench of sweat. She hadn't even noticed she had blocked it all out. Eyes wide with delighted surprise, Henley rolled away from Vincent, releasing him as she processed what had just happened.

Holy. Shit. She had won.

Not only had she won her first match, it was against Vincent – the initiate ranked at the top. She had just saved herself. She won't be factionless. Not yet, anyway.

She could hear her friends behind her, congratulating her, calling her over but she ignored them. For the second time that week, Henley turned blazing, triumphant eyes to Eric. _Take that, asshole_.

* * *

I decided to cut this chapter off here because otherwise it would just be block after block of action scenes and I wanted to pace the story better. The next chapter will be longer, I promise.

For those unfamiliar with Greek Mythology:

 _ **Sisyphus**_ : A figure in Greek mythology. He was a very cunning and crafty human king who played several tricks on the Gods and got sentenced to a nasty punishment in the Underworld. He had to roll this massive boulder up a massive hill and, upon reaching he top, had to start all over again. For eternity. I know, sucks to be him. I recommend him looking up, his story is entertaining if you're into Classics.

 _ **The River Acheron** :_ A mythological river in the Greek Underworld. The souls of the dead would be ferried across the Acheron after paying Kharon, the ferryman, into the Underworld.

I would apologise for the all Greek mythology references but I'm not sorry. As someone getting a degree in Ancient History, I just couldn't help myself; expect more in the future. I figured, as a former Erudite and current Dauntless leader, Eric would really admire the ancient Greeks and their feats, ideas and stories of strength and bravery.

Thank you so much for reading!


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